Just Partners
by Dreaming of Everything
Summary: Coco comes to the realization that Toriko and Komatsu are just partners-nothing more. That doesn't sit quite right. Sunny and Zebra agree. Komatsu/Kings, Kings/Kings, poly.


**Just Partners**  
By Dreaming of Everything

A/N: Inspired in large part by the Toriko chat group-what a wonderful bunch of people! Also, this marks my first multichapter Toriko fic. I was just planning on a oneshot, but then I started writing, and at one point I realized that it was 16 pages long (now 17), and I'd only covered 3 of my 14 bullet-points in my outline, and. Well, I guess it's a multichapter fic!

* * *

Coco runs into Toriko on a business trip. It's the time of year that the translucent salmon run, and a number of bishokuya always gather—it's not particularly dangerous by Coco or Toriko's standards, but it's a quick, solid way to put money in the bank. Coco is thinking idly about bringing some back for Komatsu, who's never had it before, and the thought of what he'd do with the pink fillets, so clear that the light shines right through them like rose quartz crystals, is impressive. Not that Coco could ever guess—Komatsu is much better at preparing ingredients than he could ever be, working not just with finesse but with invention, creativity—

Coco could spend a long time thinking about Komatsu, and has, trying to analyze all the ways in which he is extraordinary, the how and why of how he fits so perfectly with Coco himself, with the other Kings, most especially with his partner. Komatsu and Toriko are a seamless match, startlingly so. Coco had never imagined that Toriko would find someone who could keep up with his boundless will, let alone in the body of a small, ordinary-looking chef. On first glance, Komatsu had been born to be overlooked.

It's a long train ride to Last Chance, the somewhat over-dramatically named town that marks the last stop before you reach the Northern Gourmetlands, filled with oversized evergreens and prone to snow storms even during midsummer, impassably snowed-in all winter and spring and fall—for the average person, at least. Coco takes the journey as a chance to update his calendar, check his scheduled jobs for the coming months, his long-term plans. It's almost the beginning of January, after all, and he likes to stay organized.

Toriko, across from him, is mindlessly munching on something, but he looks up with a reasonable amount of attention when Coco clears his throat. "I was thinking about what we should do for Komatsu's birthday," he began, carefully. "If you don't have plans for March thirty-first, then perhaps we could all do something. Although, considering Sunny and Zebra..."

Toriko makes a noncommittal noise. "Don't know what I'll be doing," he says, shrugging. "Oh! Hey, Coco, did you know that Komatsu's _twenty-five_? He's the same age as me!"

"I did," Coco says stiffly, posture straightening with his surprise. "Toriko... You really didn't know Komatsu's age?" He's honestly baffled.

Toriko laughs: hearty, unrestrained. "No, I didn't! It doesn't matter, though. He'd still be the same cook, even if he _was_ nineteen."

Coco openly gapes at him, feeling a growing sense of unease that's only half preternatural intuition. "...You don't know his birthday either, do you," he says, not really a question.

"Why would I? I don't know why _you_ do."

"To celebrate his birthday with him," Coco said slowly, trying to push down an entirely uncharacteristic surge of anger, irritation, and something a little more shameful. "I was thinking about where to take him for dinner, Toriko, and I wanted to make sure you wouldn't have plans then."

"Unless it's a special time of year or the perfect weather for an ingredient, I don't have anything," Toriko says, dismissing the conversation and pulling out a sandwich.

Coco's hands clench into tight fists, but he stays collected. There is no blush of poison. "Why not?" he asks, tight, controlled, and Toriko looks up in mild surprise.

"We're partners," he says, like that _explains_ things, not the opposite. "Komatsu knows that, too. We're a great combo. It's all about the ingredients!"

Coco thinks of Komatsu's pure, perfect trust and his uncontrolled, uncontrollable enthusiasm and feels suddenly very tired, very defeated. He can't imagine that Komatsu's happiness with Toriko is explained away in a purely professional sense—it's more than a companionable bond between coworkers, certainly. Is it nothing more than trust that Toriko will help him find the tastiest ingredients for him to prepare, that Toriko will see him home safely if he can? They are trying to conquer the Gourmet World, eventually if not now. They are trying to do the unattainable, and there has to be more than trust to that. At the very least, it needs to run deep, and Komatsu feels things with everything he's got. It's part of his charm, even if he overreacts, doesn't ever really hold himself back.

"And what does that have to do with Komatsu's birthday?" Coco asks, cool and reserved, eyes narrowing.

"It doesn't matter," Toriko says, and shifts away from Coco, and the conversation ends.

* * *

When Coco drops the salmon off at the restaurant, Komatsu invites him back to his apartment for a meal.

"Please, Coco-san! I have an excellent idea for a marinade, and it can be seared or cooked over cedar, or prepared raw for sashimi—"

It's not even the promise of an excellent meal that makes him accept. Komatsu has asked him, after all. That's part of it. And Komatsu looks so _enthusiastic_ when he asks, genius mind already flicking through combinations, ideas, new ideas. A small smile spreads across Coco's face. There's nothing to say.

"Of course, Komatsu-kun. I'd be honored."

The smile falters as they leave the hotel, walking the two blocks to Komatsu's apartment. Of course he lives so close. But has Toriko ever been here? This will be Coco's first visit, but he's not nearly as close with Komatsu as Toriko is. What would Toriko think of something as personal as visiting his apartment?

Coco reconsiders when they arrive. The apartment—top floor, a small balcony, not huge but more than enough space for a single person, especially someone like Komatsu—is nice but impersonal. There's barely-worn furniture, some books on the shelves, an empty vase that looks like a gift. But what does Coco know about Komatsu's taste? Other than gastronomically, where he is of course impeccable.

It all makes more sense in the kitchen, which is Komatsu's first stop, Coco padding along behind him in sock feet. None of the visitor's slippers will fit. Komatsu had looked terribly upset, but hadn't said anything. Coco wants to tell him that house shoes almost never fit him, let alone any of the other kings with the exception of sometimes Sunny, that it's no problem and not to worry about it and he's just trying to not be rude. That's the last thing he ever wants. But Komatsu didn't say anything, so Coco can't say anything in return.

Once they get to the kitchen everything fits much better, Coco thinks. There are pictures on a bulletin board by the table, which has a bowl of fruit in the center of it, there's a set of shelves filled with cookbooks ordered according to use, based off of the battered corners and cracked spines on the books on the most easily-accessible shelves, the ones placed at Komatsu's height. It simply feels more comfortable, more lived-in, more an extension of Komatsu's self than the sterile, generic furnishings of the living room.

Komatsu sets the fish on the counter, and turns to beam at Coco. "Coco-san! Please, have a seat—ah, I should have stayed in the living room, maybe? Let me get tea started—I'm being rude again." He smiles at that, eyes crinkling with uncomplicated joy, smile just a touch sheepish, and doesn't look like it's a real regret at all. Coco smiles back like it's a reflex.

"Please, Komatsu-kun, don't worry. The kitchen is fine. More than fine."

Komatsu turns away from the stove, kettle on for tea now, and relaxes a little. "Sit at the table," he says, not an order at all despite the phrasing. "I'll have tea and snacks ready in a moment." Of course he will, Coco thinks. Komatsu is like that. Of course he would be traditional when it comes to making a guest feel at home, when it comes to taking care of people.

The chef busies himself in the cabinets, preparing tea and carefully arranging a few sweets, some crackers, delicate slices of fruit on plates, fussing a little to himself about color and texture as he works, while the water heats. The smell of the tea, when it's poured, is obvious even to Coco, invigorating but as delicate as the very first spring leaves. Komatsu sets everything carefully on the table before seating himself, and Coco smiles back, automatically, almost before he even registers that Komatsu is smiling at him.

"There," Komatsu says, like the issue's settled. "I'm sorry I'm not set up to have guests! I don't spend too much time here, especially now I'm out with Toriko-san so often. Most of the chefs I know just visit at the restaurant—some of us have brunch every once in a while, we switch venues and chefs. It's a nice chance to show off a little, swap recipes and ideas." He smiles again, and Coco tries not to feel too guilty, because this is the first time he's ever heard Komatsu talk about anyone other then the Kings. But of course Komatsu would have friends; he's much friendlier, kinder and more open, than any of the others, Coco included, of course. Komatsu had his own life before he followed Toriko into the wilderness in search of new ingredients and new experiences, and while his partnership with Toriko no doubt defines him in some ways, it doesn't mean that there aren't aspects to Komatsu's life that fall outside his experiences as Toriko's partner.

The tea is excellent, Coco thinks, moving his thoughts away from the bone-deep loneliness that hits, unexpectedly, at the thought that Komatsu's life probably doesn't include Coco to nearly the same degree that Coco's life includes Komatsu. Komatsu has done more for him than he knows, no doubt. It's best that way, and he should feel greedy for wanting more of his time, his attention. Although greediness is, to a certain extent, a requirement to be a successful gourmet hunter, so maybe that should come as no surprise.

Certainly Toriko has no problems with taking freely of Komatsu's time and energy. Coco is not particularly happy with him right now, however. For reasons he doesn't particularly want to explore, especially not now, when they're finally talking to each other again, when it's finally starting to feel like they're still the brothers they once were.

Coco sees very clearly, in more ways than one, which does not exempt him from moments of willful blindness.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Coco says instead, concentrating on Komatsu again. "This tea is wonderful."

The chef's eyes sparkle as he sits up a little straighter, gesturing with his hands as his usual enthusiasm when it comes to food starts to bubble over. "It's green phoenix tea, from the valley of eternal spring! Sunny-san brought me some last month because he said I could use some more food with beautiful properties to it—" Coco can't help but smile, because he can hear Sunny saying that as clear as day, can hear his pout and paper-thin excuse to bring Komatsu a present. "And it's supposed to help with rejuvenation and longevity. It's got a fantastic fresh quality to it that's simultaneously peaceful yet awakening, almost meditative. It's really best in the morning but I thought you might like it, and it goes really well with the crisp sweetness of honey-apples."

"Sunny was visiting last week?" Coco asked, trying to fit him into the context of Komatsu's rather plain, common-sense apartment, and finding it oddly easy, in the same way that Sunny looked utterly at home with Komatsu despite his initial reaction and usual tendencies.

"Just at the restaurant!" Komatsu said cheerily, as he swallows a bite of rice cracker. It's nice to share a meal with him, no matter if it's just snacks, considering how much time Komatsu has spent cooking for him—for them. Not that meals prepared by Komatsu weren't wonderful. More than wonderful. "He stopped by mid-morning so I made chilled golden carrot soup and mineral-chard quiche. I'm glad you're okay with all my chairs here being too small for you, but I'm not sure that Sunny-san would be, and I guess it's for the best that Zebra-san and Toriko-san have never come over, because they just wouldn't fit at _all._" Komatsu frowns for a moment. It's probably true, Coco thinks, Toriko and Zebra dwarf normal furniture, and Komatsu's furnishings are even smaller than that. Of course Komatsu would have a house sized to match him.

Which doesn't prevent it from feeling terribly _wrong _that Toriko—Toriko! Komatsu's partner!—has never seen his home.

And of course Coco doesn't mind furnishings too short to fit him perfectly. He's used to his height, usually comfortable with the fact that he's very, very tall until you compare him to Toriko or Zebra. It's one of the things that makes him stand out, and one of the things he's had to adjust to. It's not like it's any different for any of the others, except that Sunny thoroughly enjoys his height and Zebra loves an excuse to snarl at someone or break something.

"Komatsu-kun, it's an honor to be invited over, and your furniture isn't any sort of imposition. I'm more than used to chairs that are a little too short for me," Coco says, a little unsettled at how open, how honest, that statement is. Komatsu leaves him raw and vulnerable, in ways that are usually a relief. Komatsu is certainly exempt from the distance his poison creates with the rest of the world.

When Komatsu frowns, Coco worries for a brief moment before the chef puts a hand on his, a comforting grip. "But Coco-san, you shouldn't have to be used to furniture that's too small!" Komatsu wails, and it's like a heart-attack, the sudden once-more realization that Coco has misunderstood and underestimated Komatsu again, the realization that Komatsu wants him _comfortable_, wants him _included_, wants to take away the hardship in his life no matter how ridiculous it seems for a pint-sized chef to protect one of the most poisonous beings ever known of.

"Komatsu-kun," Coco says, then falls silent, because he's not sure what to say. Komatsu doesn't seem to notice any awkwardness, any unfortunate pauses in the conversation.

"You're tall, but I'm short and I have no problem finding furniture that fits me! And it doesn't seem fair to you or any of the others. It shouldn't be any problem to find some bigger chairs, in case Sunny-san or Toriko-san or even Zebra-san—in case you come visit again! Maybe I don't need to but I want to, Coco-san, because you're all a part of my life and I'd like having you over more—"

Lost in his own thoughts, Coco almost misses how Komatsu suddenly goes silent, like he's bitten off the end of a sentence he hadn't meant to begin. But he can't figure out why, so instead he smiles, letting a little of the warmth that Komatsu always kindles show in the expression, and Komatsu smiles back. Nothing can be too wrong, with Komatsu smiling at him. Carefully, Coco puts a hand on his shoulder, and the sudden increase in the intensity of his smile is better than anything Coco has ever eaten, he thinks. "Komatsu-san, you're too forward," he says, because it's still true. "But it suits you, and I can't dislike it too much."

"Can you stay for dinner?" Komatsu asks, after a slight lull.

"I'd be honored," Coco says. Of course.

* * *

Coco ends up helping in the kitchen, despite Komatsu's protests. He probably does as much hindering as helping, but he does stir the soup and mince herbs and taste what he's told too, even if he rarely has much more to offer than an honest "delicious!" Despite his lack of finesse, especially compared to Komatsu, it's nice to work side-by-side with him, as much out of his element as Komatsu is on his adventures with Toriko and, sometimes, Coco himself—that is, not completely uneasy, not quite right for the situation but matching it somehow, and learning something new in the process. And well-guided. Whatever else you could say about Toriko, he took great care of his partner. They complimented each other as perfectly as you could ask for.

They eat together, which is almost as satisfying as the meal, to Coco. Over the final course, a compote of bear-berries served over a pine-nut torte, deemed thematically appropriate to go with the salmon by Komatsu, who's been experimenting with regional ingredients lately, Coco finds himself turning over the issue of Toriko in his mind, over and over. Toriko isn't—cruel. That isn't it. He usually didn't care enough to be truly nasty, although Komatsu is, of course, an exception when it comes to Toriko's attention. In some ways.

Toriko has never seen Komatsu's house; he doesn't know his birthday, or even how old he is. He has no interest in coming up with birthday plans, unless something delicious happens to coincide with the date. It isn't cruel. Technically speaking. He certainly—probably—doesn't mean to wound Komatsu. Does Komatsu even care that the details of his life, other than his ability in the kitchen, simply don't matter to Toriko? Technically, all they have to do is cook and eat together: partners. That's all their relationship _i__s_, plus or minus situations where a life has been saved. Komatsu is becoming a better chef, and Toriko is challenged to increase his own skill level in ways he hasn't been for years before he met Komatsu. It's a healthy, friendly professional relationship. And Coco cannot imagine wanting to miss out on this: on Komatsu's small apartment, the kitchen warm and steamy still, dishes in the sink that Coco will insist on washing later on, Komatsu's pots of herbs on the windowsill above the sink, both of them full of good food, even if not in the quantities that Komatsu can provide at the Hotel Gourmet, everything peaceful, and warm, and cozy, intimate. A lot of words that Coco would never have applied to himself, before, but finds himself eternally grateful for, now. With Komatsu, he can be close to someone else, he can be at ease, and—

"Coco-san, is something on your mind?" Komatsu asks suddenly, pushing a re-filled cup of tea towards Coco. He's switched blends, to something warm and spicy with cloves and ginger, and Coco is aware that it probably competes better with the rich, deep flavors of the meal than the earlier tea would. Komatsu is always thinking about things like that. And always worrying about Coco, even when it isn't necessary, which is sometimes slightly distressing, always a surprise, and always welcome.

Coco smiles. "I was wondering if it would be too forward to plan something for your birthday," he says, which isn't completely untrue.

"Oh! Coco-san, that—it would be great, of course! But don't feel like you need to or anything, I usually just have a cake with the staff at the restaurant, I wouldn't really do much of anything at all but it's a nice chance for them to come up with a new cake recipe." He pauses, looking like Coco's oblique offer is a true compliment, but also like he's far more surprised than he should be.

"It would be my pleasure," Coco says, suddenly, not used to feeling this deeply about things.

But Komatsu speaks over him, blurting out the sentence like he honestly doesn't understand but really, really wants to. "But why would you do something for my birthday?" he asks, like the concept that Coco simply wants to spend more time with him, celebrating his life, is something he can't grasp. "I'm sure you're busy! It would be wonderful, Coco-san, but I just didn't expect that— Of course it would be a pleasure! I could cook dinner, take the night off from work..."

"I wouldn't ask you to cook your own birthday dinner!" Coco says suddenly, his own eyes going wide, a hand going automatically to one of Komatsu's, his fingers resting against the back of his hand, feeling the fine bones and tendons covered by delicate skin. "Komatsu-kun, it's your birthday. It won't be home-cooked, but as much as I appreciate your food, it wouldn't be much of a present to give you more work to do."

"Cooking for you is always wonderful, Coco-san," Komatsu says immediately, his tone making it clear how honestly true the sentiment is. Coco finds himself inhaling carefully around a sudden lump in his throat.

There's another slight pause. "I guess I just didn't expect this!" Komatsu says, suddenly, with another smile. "I love cooking for you—for all of you, you know. But it's—" he breaks off, shrugging. "It is what it is. You're all so busy, it can't be easy to just come see me, and really, my birthday's such a little thing."

"Toriko doesn't know when your birthday is," Coco says, suppressing another little surge of irritation. Or anger, surprising as that is.

"You do?" Komatsu asks, clearly surprised. "Coco-san! Now I feel bad not knowing when your birthday is." He frowns at his napkin, slowly folding it into a flower, tweaking it so the "petals" lay just so. "I didn't really expect you to care about something like a birthday," he says finally, slowly. "I don't mean that as an insult! I'm just a chef—we haven't known each other long. I didn't realize it would be something you'd worry about. Toriko... He doesn't think about things like that. Which is fine, of course, he's a great partner! But I should have thought. Coco-san, I'd love to spend my birthday with you."

The final sentence makes Coco smile, honestly, relaxing all at once. Komatsu's birthday is certainly something to look forward to. He hadn't even realized how much Komatsu's surprise had tensed him up. What if Komatsu-kun had wanted to keep him at a distance, wanted a purely professional relationship? A professional relationship that Coco has no claim to, because Toriko is Komatsu's partner.

He puts aside the rest of what's been said, because it's warm in the kitchen, and because he isn't sure he could manage much more conversation as nerve-wracking as that, and because Komatsu is there, and it is always nice to talk to him. More than nice.

"Thank you, Komatsu-kun," he says, finally. "So, you mentioned you're changing the menu at the restaurant? What sort of changes are you putting in place?"

Komatsu probably talks too much, technically speaking, but it's nice to have him chatter about business, food supply, changing fashions, new chefs with new skills—and new flaws. It's nice to hear Komatsu talk about his life, and when Komatsu starts asking questions, Coco will be happy to answer them, talking about his last few business trips and how things were going with fortune-telling. Coco isn't really used to talking about the mundane details of his life, little things like that, but Komatsu makes it easy.

* * *

"I found Toriko but 'Matsu wasn't with him because he went to visit his family, which is no doubt full of disgustin' short people," Sunny announces, in full-on pout as Coco walks in his front door. Foresight keeps him from reacting defensively, flicking poison at him; not that Sunny wouldn't stop it before it reached him, but then he'd have to hear him complain about poison in his hair and what it did to his senses for an hour or two.

"Hello, Sunny," Coco says, with a frown of irritation. He isn't fond of anyone breaking into his house when he's gone.

"It's not _fair!_" Sunny yowls, tossing his hair dramatically and burying his head in his hands. "_I'd_ go meet his fam'ly! And Toriko wouldn't care how ugly ev'rything no doubt is!"

Coco's eyes narrow, hands briefly squeezing into fists. "I see," he says, giving Kiss a few more soothing pets before shooing her off so she'll go find some dinner for herself. "Komatsu wasn't with Toriko because he was visiting back home?"

"And Toriko was invited but he _had_ to get disgustin' smile-peas instead! It's _not fair_, Coco."

"Of course it's fair," Coco says, acerbic, but he smacks the pan he pulled out onto the stove burner rather more loudly than is strictly necessary. "Toriko is Komatsu-kun's partner. They spend a lot of time together. When I asked Toriko about his birthday, he wasn't interested in celebrating it. I think he's happy with a mostly working relationship," Coco says.

"Toriko is so _stupid!_ It's hideous," Sunny sniffs.

"But Komatsu-kun is _his_ partner." Coco pours soup stock into the pan, poking at it irritatedly with a spoon. "If he doesn't care about Komatsu's birthday, or his age, or his family, or his apartment, it shouldn't have anything to do with us. And Komatsu-kun seems very happy working with Toriko."

"Then 'Matsu's stupid," Sunny mutters, crossing his arms. "...Toriko's never even seen his apartment?"

"Komatsu-kun told me. He invited me over, but I think... I think he doesn't realize that we'd want to be invited. It's a little small, somewhat plain." Sunny makes an anguished noise, presumably at Komatsu in substandard conditions. "...Toriko probably has no interest in seeing the place."

"I hate the big oaf," Sunny announces, eyes shut tight and an expression on his face that Coco normally associates with someone suffering a migraine. "Coco—"

"I know," Coco says shortly.

There is a brief pause. Coco's stock comes to a boil, so he adds scallions, a little tofu, fish sauce. Plain, reasonably edible food, the limit of his abilities.

"And have you seen how 'Matsu holds onto him?" Sunny says suddenly, envy clear in his voice. "I don't know how he resists."

"They're just partners," Coco replies, sighing again, dishing up two bowls, even if it's been years since Sunny's been willing to eat his cooking.

"Which is compl'tly not fair!" Sunny cries, throwing up his arms in despair. Absentmindedly, he takes the bowl of soup, and Coco arches an eyebrow in surprise but stays silent as Sunny tastes it and doesn't immediately push it away.

"So ask him out," Coco says quietly, staring at his soup like it will reveal the secrets of the future that even Coco can't see, the answer to all life's problems. "On a date, in a way that he can't misinterpret. There's more than one type of partner."

"Coco," Sunny says, sounding surprised, and Coco guiltily raises his eyes to meet Sunny's. They are surprisingly close; Sunny has moved closer to him. "Why haven't _you_ done that?"

"The last time someone kissed me, they were trying to get a saliva sample," Coco says vaguely, shifting little pieces of scallion around in his soup.

Sunny kisses him, the gentle but implacable grip of his hairs moving his head up and Sunny's arms going around his bare neck, Sunny demanding and enthusiastic and completely unrestrained as his soft lips press uncomplainingly into Coco's slightly chapped ones, as he nips gently at one lip and then licks into Coco's open mouth, sighing into the kiss when Coco hesitantly kisses back before pulling smugly away.

"Now you don't have an excuse," Sunny says breathlessly, licking his lips.

"Sunny!"

"He's already turned me down once," Sunny says, definitely pouting again.

"I simply haven't given him the opportunity." Coco's smile is perhaps a bit grim.

"...That bast'rd Zebra will want to ask too," Sunny admits, making Coco's eyes widen a little bit with clear surprise. If Sunny is considering _Zebra's_ feelings, things have to have changed a lot, and Sunny has to be very serious. No wonder he's dragging his feet. Coco understands: there is so much to lose. And not the slightest indication that Komatsu's anything more than friendly and physically demonstrative. "If he can see it even though he's so hid'eous, I don't know why Toriko can't."

"Toriko's just happy with his partnership," Coco repeats, finally taking a spoonful of soup. He tries not to think about how he isn't sure if that's true. It's just his own feelings, getting out of hand. "Don't tell me you wouldn't be happy with Komatsu as your partner."

Sunny sighs like a teenaged girl, only infinitely more dangerous: hard to forget when Coco can see the gleaming threads of his power, invisible to anyone with lesser—with normal—vision. "But it wouldn't stop me from wanting more."

There's a period of silence as they both eat their soup. There isn't anything to say in response to that, because it's _true_ for both of them. Technically speaking, Coco thinks, guiltily, friendship alone should be more than enough for him. What Komatsu already gives him is more than he'd ever thought possible. It is _already_ extraordinary. Asking for more is greedy.

Since when are any of them ever content with the bare minimum? Or even more than that. Even if he hides it better than some of the others.

"So, then," Coco says finally, laying his spoon down. It clinks loudly in the somewhat oppressive silence, he thinks, in such a way that it seems like a bad omen. "What are you proposing, Sunny?"

"You're the one with all the ideas," Sunny tells him, but it's just him being catty because he's stalling, or thinking, or has nothing better to say. "Ask him out... It won't work. It would be terr'bly unbeautiful. It's a horrendous idea, Coco!"

"I don't know why you bother asking me for advice, sometimes," Coco says, deceptively mild, his own ire rising steadily. Sunny has a gift when it comes to irritating others.

"Not like that," Sunny says, which is... unexpected. It's almost an apology. "The whole situ'ation, is wrong. That's it. 'Matsu isn't supposed to _choose_."

"It's a moot point, who he chooses, if he's interested in any of us at all," Coco says, sick to his stomach. Komatsu won't choose, he knows that, or thinks he knows, if it came down to picking one of them and hurting the other—two, because Zebra would care, very much, but Toriko won't. Toriko has his partner, and that is apparently sufficient. "It would probably be Toriko if it was anyone. Or he's got his eye on another chef, or maybe someone else—a gourmand. A librarian with good taste. We're all assuming he's interested in men."

"He _touches_ me all the time!" Sunny insists, like it means something, and Coco swallows another mouthful of broth because it means a lot to him, too, but he knows it shouldn't. "Nothing else works right. It's got to be all three."

Coco chokes on his mouthful and spends a minute coughing, while Sunny pounds him energetically on the back—it isn't actually helpful, but he can't exactly say anything. And it's harder to ward off a tangle of hairs than someone's arm.

"I think you need to ask Komatsu-kun first before you decide something like that!"

"Well, of course we'll _ask_ him. I'm not unci'villized, Coco. Quite the opposite." He preens again, although there are undertones of nervousness to his posturing. Of _course_ there are undertones, and nerves, Coco thinks. With that sort of suggestion...!

"And how will Zebra react to your... idea?" Coco says, mildly. As calmly as he's able. "Or you, for that matter, when you're both sharing more of Komatsu-kun's time?"

"It will work," Sunny says casually, with a dismissive flick of his fingers. Coco can feel an oncoming headache, and he stands to pour himself a glass of water. Sunny follows, crowding behind him at the sink. Still shorter than him, but he's making up the difference by hovering. Of course.

"You say that now," Coco says, tightly. "What about when Zebra's eaten all the food and he's poured your hair treatment down the sink to goad you into fighting? What about when Komatsu doesn't want to move and you have to spend time in his apartment? Or me, Sunny. What happens when I start irritating you again?"

"Can we work through it?" For once, it's a real question. Sunny's voice is... plaintive. It's like a slap in the face, and it brings up a lot of old hurt.

"We didn't," Coco says.

"'Matsu will make it work."

"He can't work miracles."

"Yes he can! Coco, you _know_ him."

"...Okay, yes he can," Coco relents, turning to face Sunny, eye-to-eye—even if he has to look up a little, with Sunny's current position. Petty power games, part of him thinks, but Sunny looks anguished, and it makes him human in a way he usually isn't. "But whatever miracles Komatsu-kun works, we can't give him the burden of us—"

"What if he _wants us_, Coco?"

"There's no way—"

"You're the one not even giving him a chance to try!"

"But _all three? _There's no one that open-minded in the world, Sunny!" It's honestly upsetting him, Coco realizes, and he has to force his poison down, another shameful reminder of how inhuman he is, and how no human should act. He doesn't even _want_ to hurt Sunny, not seriously.

"But I won't ever capit'ulate, and neither will Zebra, the brute. And 'Matsu won't _let_ you give up. You know that. Can you imagine him letting you hold yourself back?"

He can't, actually. But he won't say that. "It's different when it's his affections!"

"So he'll say no. And you'll keep snatchin' glances at him, and I'll taste him whenever I can, and Zebra can—can listen to his heartbeat. And he'll keep _touching us._"

"It can't be that simple."

"There's nothing to lose!" Sunny says, laughing, and his laugh isn't quite bitter, but it's full of something like desperation, except that it isn't desperate. Just a man following the one open path he sees, and damn the consequences, because the reward will be worth it, if he makes it. The sort of attitude a bishokuya needs, of course, that special sort of insanity.

"Thank you, Sunny," Coco manages, and shakes his head, gripping the counter to keep his fingers from trembling. But behind him, Sunny has a little panic in his eyes, so that's okay.

"...Now you just need to dis'cuss matters with Zebra," Sunny says eventually. Coco can't hold back his groan, part sheer exhaustion and part preemptive frustration.

"I'd make you come with me, but then we'd all die," Coco mutters.

"You'll do great!"

"Sunny, I'm five minutes away from kicking you out of my house."

"But you won't," Sunny said, and for once it's true. So instead Coco makes tea, and brings out some of the cookies Komatsu had sent him home with, and they chat about their lives, casual and somewhat silly details that are firmly safe. And if nothing else, Coco thinks, at least Komatsu has given them this. Because it's been years since he's talked to Sunny so companionably. Not to mention that kiss.

* * *

They find each other more-or-less simultaneously at the River Gourmet, where they've quickly outsped most of the small fry gathering Emerald Cress. People don't hire the four kings for class 2 ingredients, but the area makes for a neutral meeting spot somewhere in-between their real jobs, and as they go further upstream, into the wilderness, there's always a chance of biscuitpigs.

"Coco!" Sunny calls out, imperiously, as he's turning, and he's surprised how readily he smiles. And even more surprised when he steps forward to hug Sunny, automatically, not really thinking, and he threatens to break out in a nervous sweat for a few heartwrenching seconds before Sunny is hugging him back.

"Hey," Zebra sort of mutters, coming up next to them, remarkably quiet when he wants to be, and Coco turns and open his arms automatically, then starts to drop them because that's stupid. This is Zebra. Who glares at him—Coco refuses to be intimidated, if nothing else—before looking away, _blushing_ of all things, and quickly squeezing him up into a rough hug, giving Coco just enough time to return the gesture (or attempt to; against Zebra, he's as small as Komatsu is compared to him) before he's dropped roughly back to the ground. Coco smiles even wider, and Zebra smiles back, which looks—kind of horrible, but that is what it is. Not every smile had to be Zebra emphasizing or showing off or rubbing in the nightmarish configuration of his face, Coco realizes, feeling oddly guilty. Of course, sometimes it absolutely is Zebra relishing the fear he inspires. But that didn't prevent an honest smile.

Zebra and Sunny are staring at each other, though, and any pleased surprise is replaced with a sinking feeling in the bottom of his stomach, like going down an elevator.

"You are as unlov'ly as always," Sunny says airily, and Zebra growls. They stare each other down. Coco muffles a sigh, and the unexpected disappointment, because he knew going into this whole ordeal just how dramatically everything was likely to fail.

Zebra opens his arms. "You wouldn't dare," Sunny said, his own posture shifting, and Zebra hugs Sunny, ruffling his hair—or he tries to, but physically, Sunny is stronger, unless Zebra uses his voice, but that wouldn't be friendly at all.

Sunny squeaks.

"You horrible thing!" Sunny snaps, and throws himself at Zebra, arms around his neck, either strangling him or showing affection. It's surprisingly friendly. It _is_ friendly, maybe more than that, Coco thinks, and blinks several times in a poor attempt to get over his surprise.

It's a good way for them to compete. Taking out aggression by—whatever it is they're doing, play-fighting or aggressively hugging—is almost well-adjusted. The surprise of that tingles in his veins. It's a gift.

No matter how poorly this goes, he owes Komatsu something nice. Maybe a vacation at the Gourmet Hot Spring. Although he supposes that that could get...misinterpreted.

What if Komatsu's unnerved by them, once they start showing their interest in him? It's one thing to spend time with an ill-mannered lot of top-tier predators barely disguised under a thin veneer of civility, but it would be another thing in entirely to have them—to have them paying you court. As a group.

Is Coco really so far gone that he's truly considering this? So much for being a gentleman. He's as human as any of the others, but that doesn't go far. He is no more human than any of them, either.

"Stop sulking," Zebra snarls at him, attempting to collar him—at least it's easy to dodge, he sees him coming.

"I'm not sulking," he protests, but neither of the other two are listening. Something about who can catch the most fish the fastest, with Sunny suddenly protesting because Zebra's version of fishing tends to be rather disruptive. Zebra has a smirk lingering that might be because he's found a valid excuse for more disastrous mischief, or because he likes making Sunny yell until his voice breaks deep, a dramatic change from his usual pleasant tenor.

In the end, they end up settled on the bank of the river, Zebra chewing his way through a couple of may-apple moose.

Coco braces himself, back straight and looking at his clasped hands and lips pressed tight because the crushing weight of what they're attempting—considering attempting—is pushing against him again, almost insurmountable. He breathes in, deep, evenly, and looks at the others—might as well get this over yet—only to find them looking at him, expectantly. He winces.

"Well? What the fuck is this about?"

"Sorry," Coco mutters, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, head bowed, eyes slipping closed. This was a terrible idea. He has no idea what he's thinking. There is _no good answer._ He should never have—

"'Matsu!" Sunny says, like it's _obvious,_ tossing his hair. Zebra—Coco turns to face him, out of some sort of morbid curiosity, this is a train wreck, he needs to learn to stop listening to Sunny—Zebra actually puts aside his meat—still dripping blood into the leaf litter around him, liberally spattered with viscera, stopping in a razor-edged line five feet from Sunny's seat on a convenient log, and Coco should have thought to put himself in-between them, even if—even if that wouldn't do anything. How is _Zebra_ going to react to the idea that they—they share Komatsu? Or—approach him about it. Or attempt to seduce him as a _group_. It sounds even more offensive, put like that.

"What about him?" Zebra says, eyes narrowing. "Why isn't Toriko here?"

Then Zebra turns to look at _Coco_, possibly because of a flare in temper—and intent—that he can't quite control. There's no reason for him to be so offended, he has no reason at all to think that Komatsu-kun himself is unsatisfied or worries _at all_ about Toriko's relationship with him. But the whole thing looks wrong to Coco's eyes, and he's not used to seeing things incorrectly. Maybe he just doesn't have the whole picture yet. And he can be wrong—he's been wrong about Komatsu's future before, because he's still alive, despite everything that had happened in the cave, so early on, seeking out the puffer whale. Before Toriko had learned to keep careful watch of his partner, before they were even partners—what on Earth had possessed him, to bring a barely-known chef with no physical strength along with him in the first place? What about Komatsu first caught his eye?

"What?" Zebra asks, looking baffled. Then he smirks, eyes glittering, a predator's gleam, and Coco gets a sudden sinking feeling that's only partially precognition. "...You get turned down too, poison bastard?Heh."

"I haven't asked for Komatsu-kun's partnership," Coco grinds out, knuckles going white as he knots his hands together, staring at them like something will reveal itself to him. Some way out of this slow-burning disaster. "Because it would be _inappropriate._ He's Toriko's partner and he seems—"

"But Toriko is an idiot! Obviousl'y, Coco," Sunny snaps, and Coco looks up, agreement written on his face despite his best intentions. It's true.

"Toriko just doesn't see Komatsu-kun as more than his partner—doesn't interpret that as more than a business relationship," Coco stresses, trying to convince himself as well. "No romantic interests, no desire to spend—social time with him, in a more casual environment, I suppose. He has no interest in details beyond the immediately applicable, but it shouldn't matter if he doesn't know what age Komatsu-kun is. I—"

"...**Seriously?**" Zebra roars, his decibel level just shy of damaging, every animal for miles fleeing away from him or flapping into the air or burrowing into the ground. Sunny stares for a second like the man's gone mad, which is—not all that far from the truth, maybe, certainly most of the human world considers him a rabid animal.

"_I _know his fucking age," Zebra adds, at a more reasonable volume, although Coco's ears are still ringing slightly. "Even if I call him a fucking kid. Otherwise it could be _weird_. You saying that that fucker Toriko—"

"No idea," Coco grits out. "He had no idea. He has no idea when Komatsu's birthday is. He has no plans to spend that day with Komatsu at all, actually, unless they're tracking down another ingredient."

"That really bothers you, Coco?" Sunny says, patting his shoulder companionably with an invisible bundle of his feelers, the give of them just slightly odd. It's a weird, friendly gesture, and it does settle Coco's mood somewhat.

"I—" Coco says, and breaks off, grasping for the words. "It doesn't seem right. Komatsu-kun seemed so happy to have me over, once he stopped worrying. ...I just can't imagine him happy with Toriko as a partner in only the strictest sense. It seems wrong. I want Komatsu-kun to be happy, more than anything else, and I—"

"So we called you," Sunny says, and tugs on Zebra's shirt sleeve without moving a muscle, until Zebra growls. Affectionate, Coco thinks, and for once that's not completely crazy. "Because—"

"...You're gonna kill that bastard Toriko?" Zebra says, sounding confused but also like he's serious. Coco chokes on a mouthful of water.

"No! That would make 'Matsu u'pset," Sunny says dismissively. "You have no _finesse_, Zebra. We're goin' to court 'Matsu, of course!"

"It's still a terrible idea," Coco says, but his voice is weak, and no one is listening. And it has far too much to do with how he's thought too long and too often about how nice it would be to take Komatsu out for dinner, the two of them, just to see Komatsu smile when he tried something new. Not even—necessarily—a date, although he would... He wouldn't say no to that. But he'll take whatever he can. Every smile he can get, and—

And even if this is something he _wants_, he can't go through with it, because it could bring this all crashing down—

"I can hear you thinking," Zebra growls, tossing a bone at him hard enough to jolt Coco out of his own thoughts. "Stop it, cocky bastard."

"Even you can't hear me thinking," Coco says, but it's just something to say. "...Well?"

"Well _what_?" Zebra retorts, phrasing it like a threat, but he doesn't play dense for long, at least not now, at least not with them. Not talking about this. ...Okay, so the man was born difficult, and only got worse. But this is _important_, and maybe even he thinks that it all feels too fragile. "...Well, what the fuck do you mean, '_we'_?"

"You asked 'Matsu 'bout partnering with your terrible disgustin' unrefined self, of course. Do you just want his food or do you want _'Matsu_, do you want him layin' in the grass under the sun and there are sorbet flowers all around you and shimmer peaches and you bend over him to feed him slices and he's smilin' up at you and his skin is supple and healthy und'rneath your fingers and you lean closer and he reaches up to pull you down..."

Sunny's gaze has gone unfocused, almost dreamy, his face softened, almost sweet. Coco and Zebra are staring at him; then simultaneously they glance at each other, unspoken communication. Sunny is _smitten, _Coco thinks. And he doesn't feel jealous.

"Fuck no," Zebra says, automatically. "...I'm gonna fucking steal my kisses from him until he challenges me back." Then he clears his throat, dropping his eyes like he's _embarrassed_. It's fascinating, Coco thinks, and just slightly surprising, maybe even unnerving. But he can't ever remember Zebra liking anyone, at least—like that.

That leaves him. Coco straightens, tries to retain his dignity, and decides it's probably useless anyway. "I want to have dinner waiting for him when he gets back from a long shift at the restaurant, because he doesn't eat while he's cooking. Then I'd rub any stress out of his back while he talks about his successes and his frustrations, and then kiss him—" despite his best efforts, his voice breaks on the word _kiss_, and Coco clears his throat "—when the conversation's run down, and..."

"Yeah," Sunny says, husky-voiced.

"But he's Toriko's partner!" Zebra bellows, smacking a meaty hand against the ground with more force than is probably necessary.

"But like Coco poin'ed out," Sunny says, looking sly, suddenly, "'Matsu doesn't have a boyfriend."

"So we're _competing_?" Zebra says, but despite his best efforts, he doesn't sound enthusiastic. He's not jumping on the chance to show up the others. He's holding back, Coco thinks, like a ray of light piercing through the darkness—nice, even if he has no need of light to see. He can still feel _illuminated_.

"Uncult'red barbarian! That wouldn' be fair to our 'Matsu."

"He's not our anything," Coco says, uselessly. Sunny is ignoring him again.

"...We're goin' to court him all together," Sunny says, and smiles far too widely. And he looks so _confident_. Even without Komatsu there, hugging them all and, and—reaching out to touch, casually, like no one else does to any of them. Sunny, above the rest of the world, Coco untouchable, Zebra a killer. Komatsu, though, so smiles so _widely_ when he sees them, when they're together.

Coco can't figure out whether to suppress a smile, or sigh, and instead makes a small noise of what is probably confusion. And with Zebra, no use hoping that it went unheard; the most he can hope for is that it's uninteresting compared to the conversation.

Because they had just suggested that the three of them pursue the fourth King's partner. Collectively.

"All of us," Zebra says flatly, standing. He's huge, looming over them, startlingly so, Coco thinks, blocking out a significant portion of his light. "What kind of _fucked-up idea is that_?"

"A terrible one," Coco sighs, which earns him an intensified glare from Zebra and a soft smack from Sunny, who—

Who hasn't made any moves to push Zebra away, to defend himself from him. Coco forces his own nerves down, exercising steely will. If Sunny can do this, so can he. Maybe Sunny knows Zebra better than Coco does, for all that they fight. Maybe because of it. Coco had never known his brothers as well as he'd thought.

"It is _not_ ter'ible! Think, Zebra. Toriko is doin' a disgustin' job taking care of 'Matsu in all the ways that _we_ want him, and 'Matsu won't leave his partner for one of us. Coco told me to start beaut'ifully courting him—"

"I didn't phrase it quite like that," Coco objects, but quietly. It's not really important.

"But that won't work, because _he_ wants 'Matsu too, of course, Toriko's got'n him upset, because Toriko is being _stupid_, and it's ob'vious Coco wants 'Matsu and he's just too scared to ask—"

"Sunny!"

"...It just wouldn' work, Zebra. 'Matsu would hate the three of us fightin' over him, it would be horrific'ly unbeaut'ful, and you an' me won't back down, and Coco _shouldn't._"

"What makes you think I'd consider sharing?" Zebra growls, Coco shaking his head silently, to himself. Of course. One of the first glaring flaws in the plan, if you don't consider the plan itself the biggest problem. "Of course the kid'll pick me!"

"You're being stupid," Sunny says crisply, and for once Coco is forced to agree.

"...So how're we gonna do this?" Zebra says, sitting down again, closer to them, now, watching them with the sort of intensity he has that isn't quite a threat, isn't quite calculating—it's _thoughtful_, Coco thinks, memories echoing back, of the times when Zebra would watch them, more analytical than aggressive, and the expression hard to recognize on his face, considering his features, but unexpectedly at home.

"If you think I'm going to compete for Komatsu-kun's attentions with you, you're wrong," Coco says tartly, trying not to feel too bitter. There is _no reason_ for it.

"Bastard," Zebra snaps. "How're _we_ doing this? I'm not gonna do your work for you, you cocky asshole."

"What?" says Coco, eloquently. Sunny snickers to himself, wickedly amused.

"...And you're probably better at this. Shit like that." Zebra almost mumbles his words, which makes it even harder to hear, to understand. Because Zebra's not supposed to admit those sorts of things, and he's not... Not supposed to sound upset by it.

"I don't know why you'd think that," Coco blurts, honestly surprised. "I don't _want_ the attention all those women give me! I've tried to make them stop, but it never works. I'm still a virgin!"

"_Seriously?_" Sunny says, whipping around and eyes wide with surprise and maybe a little glee. Coco buries his head in his hands.

"I really shouldn't expose anyone to my bodily fluids," Coco whispers, just loud enough that the others can hear it.

Zebra's rough hand grips at the back of his neck, scarred-and-calloused palm shaking him with unexpected gentleness and care. No matter how rough the gesture should be, considering what it is, who it is. "I hate idiots even more than cockiness," Zebra says, and shuffles a little closer, invading Coco's personal space thoroughly.

"Yeah," Sunny says, his hairs squeezing them tight—not threatening, just warm—for a split second, smiling at them like they're something beautiful.

Maybe they really can do this, Coco thinks.

-End Chapter One-


End file.
